What Happens Now THG MOCKINGJAY ENDING
by RiriCrissColfer
Summary: Mockingjay ended badly and I decided to rewrite it! This is what I imagined what would happen between Peeta and Katniss as they "grew back together" WAS NAMED Ending for Mockingjay THG but I saw there were so many others named like it. OPEN TO PROMPTS!
1. Chapter 1

**Well hey and thanks for checking out my fanfic :3 I love THG as much as anyone can so when I read the end of Mockingjay I just decided that it wasn't long enough and rewrote it :). I'm sticking this up because I thought maybe someone else out there could enjoy it too ;D xxx**

**Ps: this starts just after that part where Peeta plants the Primroses and Katniss feels the need to suddenly get her butt up and go into the woods… I put in a few of the parts that happen after that straight from the book – I acknowledge I didn't write them and the characters and settings aren't mine… duh Suzanne Collins is way cooler than me ;) **

**Enjoy!**

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It is the old Katniss's favourite kind of day. Early spring. The woods awakening after the long winter. I wander through the forest for a while, gazing, admiring, picking berries, until the spurt of energy that began with the primroses fades away. By the time I make it back to the fence, I'm so sick and dizzy that I feel like I did back when I first arrived in 13 - helpless, depressed, and not knowing what to do with myself.

I dump my unused bow and arrow on the ground, and myself next to them, my back against a tree. Facing where the meadow once was, I watch through the fence as the remains of the dead are thrown into a mass grave.

'I killed you' is the one sentence stuck in my head. Stupid brain. I rest my head between my knees, and sigh.

You'd think that with the war over, all the pain would stop. Every worry would just vaporize; turn to dust like District 12 did. But nothing that easy ever happens to me.

I doubt I'll get him back. Peeta, I mean. Yes, he's changing, slowly, but nowhere near enough to be himself again. Just like Haymitch said, I don't think he'll ever be the same. After all we'd been through, after him realizing that I love him, ME realizing that I love him. The battles and the separation, his warnings for district 13, the nightmares we endured together, our kisses and love. Everything together had just been left behind and replaced by filthy lies.

A tear slides down my scarred cheek. Wiping it away furiously, I stand up and decide to go back into the forest. I have seen enough death for a life time.

What does my life mean anyway? What's the point? The Games are over. The rebellion's over. My relationship is over. My family is over. What is there left for me to care about? I walk restlessly for what must be hours, pondering life.

And love. What's love? A stupid feeling that's usually not returned. It's a waste of time and feelings. And makes you have a weakness.

A weakness.

My weakness.

Peeta Mellark.

A weak cry escapes my mouth, followed by more, and before I know it, I'm slipping into full meltdown mode. I turn, and stumble back into the woods, but not far because my legs are shaking, and I collapse half on top of what seems to be a berry bush. It hurts, but who cares? There's no-one left.

Sobs wrack my body, tears stain my face, and with every moan my voice grows weaker, until it's just whimpers again. Eventually, I drift into a fitful sleep riddled with nightmares.  
I only remember one. Something is chasing me through the woods of the 74th Games. I'm not sure what it is, but I know for sure it wants to kill me. Or eat me. Or both. I'm running fast, but the beast is moving faster, and then I hear it whispering my name, like those lizard mutts in the Capitol. "Katniss . . . Katniss!" It seemed to get more urgent, panicky, as it came closer.  
I turn, raise my loaded bow, to find a wolf mutt, with a blond curly coat and bright, startling blue eyes, running towards me. Then it leaped.

"PEETA!" I wake up, screaming his name.

Then I hear that someone is screaming mine.

"Katniss! Was that you? Katniss, please! Where are you?" I slap my hands over my mouth. Peeta? Here? In the woods at night, looking for me? I can barely see a thing; the sun had gone down a long time ago, but I'd know that voice anywhere.

I try to get up, and find I'm covered in scratches from the berry bush, and have a couple of bruises from thrashing around. I grimace, wipe the stains off my face, stand, and call out "Peeta!" just as the tears start again. Why am I crying? I shouldn't still be crying. I can't be crying when Peeta comes.

But then he crashes through the foliage, and he's here. A stray beam of moonlight illuminates his profile, and all I can do is mutter a strangled "Peeta," before my legs crumble, and I hit the ground again. I know I'm not being rational. What if he's calling out my name because he wants to kill me? But then I realize I don't really care if he does.

He's kneeling next to me in a second. I can tell he's unsure what to do, and I do try to cease the bawling but the tears just won't stop. Well, he doesn't look like he's about to strangle me. Not that I care or anything.

"Katniss . . . I, you . . ." He stops, and I swear it's the first time I have ever seen him lost for words. He gazes into the night, and tries again. "Katniss, you can't just leave like that." Huh, turns out he's not. I stop the sniffling and mumble, "Why would you care?" He sighs. He risks a glance at me put of the corner of his eye, but as soon as our gazes meet, his flickers away, just like it used to at school.

"I . . . Greasy Sae came to make you dinner, and you weren't there, so, um, she got worried and went round to Haymitch, but he's asleep on the floor, and so she came to me instead and I . . . I had to come looking. Greasy Sae said you went hunting . . ." he looks at me uncertainly.

I was planning to say that yes, I had gone hunting but the game wasn't easy today and I was coming back but got tired and fell asleep, but as I take a deep breath and open my mouth, my intentions shatter and I spill the one sentence that has been on my mind for a very, very long time. "I'm sorry… I've just… I've got nowhere to go!" I wail. A pause, and I begin to hope that that wasn't too much and that I hadn't started one of his mutt-fits. But then, the unimaginable happens: I feel safe, strong arms wrap around my shaking body. His hand touches my cheek, and tilts my head up, to look into those shining blue eyes. When he speaks, his voice is soft and warm, not fidgety and unsure like before.

"You love me. Real or not real?" I reply "Real," and, seeming happy with this answer, he leans down and touches his lips to mine. Our lips move faster, our hearts thrumming a hundred miles an hour. After a few seconds I pull our embrace apart, and I can see on his face that he thinks I want to stop. He looks terrified, so I give him a tired smile.

"Stay with me," I whisper, and his eyes light up, the way they do when he's really, really happy. "Always." He replies, leaning towards me.

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**Sooooo hope everyone liked! :D there are more chapters coming... THIS IS NOT THE END! :) not sure when I'll be updating next... but anyway I hope someone reads this and I didn't just waste my time ;) xxx 3  
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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

What Happens Now

Early morning while it's still dark, I wake to find myself in bed. Alone. I can't remember walking home; Peeta must have carried me. But where is he? Probably at his house, I think. He seemed fine last night, though.  
Sighing, I roll over, and start to drift off to sleep again.  
My head snaps around at the hiss, but it takes a while to believe he's real. How could he have got here? I sit up, flick on my light switch, and take in the claw marks from some wild animal, the back paw he holds slightly above the ground, the prominent bones on his face. He's come on foot then, all the way from 13. Maybe they just kicked him out, or he couldn't stand it there without her, so he came looking.  
"It was a waste of a trip. She's not here." I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go _away_! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's _never_ coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead." I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. "She's _dead_, you stupid cat. She's dead."  
A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won't go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually, I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he's there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.  
In the morning, he sits stoically as I clean the cuts, but digging the thorn from his paw brings on a round of those kitten mews. We both end up crying again, only this time we comfort each other. On the strength of this, I open the letter Haymitch gave me from my mother, dial the phone number and weep with her as well.  
Wiping the tear marks off my face, I head upstairs to have a shower, and then the doorbell rings. Funny, I had no idea I have a doorbell.  
I throw on some clothes, run downstairs, open the door, and it's Peeta, holding a fresh loaf of bread.  
"Hi Katniss," He says, but I can tell something in him has changed from last night. He's more held back, distant. Just like when he found me. He holds out the bread. "Um, have you had breakfast yet? I was wondering if you'd like a loaf…"  
"Hey Peeta, sure, I haven't had anything yet." I reply, and invite him in. As he lifts his arm to close the door behind him, his sleeve slides up above his wrist, and exposes a ring of slashed skin.  
Gasping, and with a light shudder, I whisper, "What happened to your _hand_?" I grasp both and examine them closely. The other hand had exactly the same wound; raw, red and open to infection.  
He hesitates, and then I know what happened. "I lost it last night, Katniss. I couldn't take it, when you fell asleep in the woods. I shouted at Thom - you know him, right?" I nod. "Well, I shouted at him to take you back to Greasy Sae, and then I handcuffed myself, um, to my bed. I tried to clean them in the morning but I couldn't find any bandages or anything for them."  
I closed my eyes, imagining this happen.  
"Where the _hell_ did you get handcuffs from?" I say. I'm not sure if I want to know the answer.  
"Um . . . Haymitch's house. I got them a little while ago. He has some pretty interesting stuff in there…"  
I breathe in, and look Peeta straight in the eye.  
"Don't. _Don't do that._ That's how the mutt Peeta works. My Peeta doesn't hurt himself." I turn away, still holding his arm, and lead him up the stairs, into the bathroom to deal with his gash.  
"Katniss, the pain helps me-"  
"Hold on, yes I know." I interrupt, busying myself by collecting together a few medicines to put on his hands. "But there are other ways to help you hold on too. And I'm . . ." I trail off, and glance at him. I can see in his eyes that he knows what I mean. I'm still trying to save him.  
"So am I," He mutters. He looks pretty angry.  
We sit by the bath in silence while I apply numerous creams and oils to his gashes.  
Then Peeta breaks it. "Give me another way of stopping myself from turning mutt, and then I might use it."  
I look at him, and he stares straight back. I can tell he has been gazing at me for a while. I finish wrapping his hands in bandages, then I move them onto his lap, and lean closer to him.  
"I hope this helps more than _any_ handcuffs." I whisper into his ear. Then I wrap my hands behind his back, and lean into his lips. He stiffens; not expecting this, but then tenderly places his sore hands on either side of my face. We stay locked like this until I hear Greasy Sae barge through the front door downstairs, presumably, to make me breakfast. Peeta pulls back his head, and looks at me quizzically.  
"Am I here or not?" If he either means that he doesn't know if this is a dream or if Greasy Sae should know he's with me, "Yes, you're here," is my answer, either way.  
Hand in hand, we quietly tread down the stairs.  
I can tell she's taken aback; I don't even know if she knew Peeta's back from the Capitol. I smile and hold up his hands.  
"I was tending to these," I explain, but before I can say anything else, Peeta interrupts, and tactfully places his hands around my waist to hide the bandages.  
"I brought bread, Greasy Sae, so I can make breakfast for both of us. You can go, if you like,"  
Greasy Sae takes the hint, yelling out "Bye kids!" As she backs out of the door.  
Peeta immediately starts work at the stove, and as I chew on pieces of his loaf he bought over, he _tries_ to teach me how to bake a range of delicacies. Cinnamon Rolls, Chelsea Buns, Chocolate Eclairs, and my favorite, Cheesy Buns. After a lot of laughs, burnt dough and kisses, we sit down to a huge brunch of every type of bakery based food imaginable, as well as bacon, eggs and hot chocolate. Not as good as the old Capitol stuff, but nearly.  
I didn't manage to make one single bit of it.  
Stuffing cheese buns into my mouth, I watch as Peeta dunks an apricot roll into the hot chocolate, which brings on a round of memories from the Hunger Games. On the train and at the Training Centre I had seen him do exactly the same thing.  
He looks up, and a beaming smile spreads across his face.  
He leans across the table, and I taste cinnamon, apricot and chocolate on his lips.

After we stuffed everything we could possibly eat into our stomachs, we cleaned up the rest and sat down by the TV. I snuggled up against Peeta's chest, my head resting by his heart.  
It's funny, because now there are these shows on our television for entertainment. I guess because there aren't Hunger Games anymore, they need something else to fill all hours of broadcasting. There's two game shows, one is Panem Idol, where people sing and dance as a competition. Peeta thinks I should have a go, but I have had enough publicity for a lifetime. I like it because even if you don't win, you still get prize money. And they don't let people from the Capitol join in.  
And there quite a few soap operas, they call them, (soap? I don't get it) basically people acting out others.  
There are programmes for kids too, and there's always a half hour tribute memorial at 7 o'clock. I like watching these because they don't emphasize how they died, it's more about the life they lived, and the people they loved. I've heard they're trying to get together information for the tributes as far back as the first few Games.  
Rue's was beautiful. Somehow Plutarch managed to get footage of her covered in flowers when she died – I didn't even know they had filmed that. I cried. So was Finnik's; there was lots of clips from his and Annie's wedding in 13. Technically he didn't die during the Games, but in the end, it was still the Capitol that killed him.  
We are halfway through watching Glimmer's Memorial, later that day, when Peeta's arm around me suddenly becomes stiff.  
"Peeta?" I ask, turning to face him, to find hard, cold eyes glaring back. Oh no. I know what this means. Was it the memory of the tracker jackers?  
I'm about to lunge out and kiss him, when he pushes me away and stands up. His eyes seem frozen, but burning with cold hate for me. He stands there for a while, his face stony. I'm too scared to move.  
"You evil, _evil_ person." He whispers.  
"No, Peeta! It's not what-" I reach out my hand, but he bats it away.  
"Do. Not. _TOUCH_ ME!" He yells. "How do you have the NERVE TO TOUCH MY SKIN WHEN YOU _KILLED_ MY WHOLE FAMILY, KATNISS? YOU ALMOST KILLED ME TOO! _SO MANY TIMES!" _He shouts in my face. He starts trembling at exactly the same time as I do. "YOU MURDERED JUST ABOUT THE WHOLE OF DISTRICT 12 and you still have the _COURAGE_ to come _BACK_?" His voice is growing louder with every word. He backs up against the wall, and grasps the closest thing in his reach. It seems to be a candlestick. Then I figure it out.  
"NO PEETA!" I scream, and just as the polished metal hits my head, I see a flicker of realization light his face.  
Then I black out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone, sorry I didn't put any author's notes in last time, I sort of forgot… also sorry for the longish update ;P… so I have no idea how to continue on for next chapter, I was wondering if you guys have any ideas on what should happen? :) I'd be interested to see what you'd like and if I think it would work then I might write it in. :D xxx Enjoy!**

What Happens Now

Chapter 3

"Sweetheart? You hear me?" a cough, "More boy trouble?" Haymitch sniggers. In the depths of my mind I know he's being a complete jerk so I raise a weak hand and try to whack him, but it really isn't making a difference. "Is Katniss a little bit _angryyy_?" He chortles. He's drunk.  
I try to open my eyes, and find myself in a white room. I immediately sense 'Hospital' and a beeping coming from my left confirm my suspicions.  
"What…?" I mumble.  
"You are in district 12's new hospital! Tada!" Haymitch yells, much too loudly, "You and Peeta are…" And he falls asleep, his head thumping down on my bed, breathing alcohol fumes in my face.  
"Peeta's in here too? He shouldn't be hurt! Why is he in here Haymitch? _Tell me_!" I try to shake him awake, but I know that the only way to get him up is a jug of water.  
Groggily, I touch my forehead to find a thick wad of bandages, and stumble out of bed. I'm in a small, clean white room. Newly done, I can tell, but nowhere near the size and wealth of the Capitol.  
I wonder where this is in 12?  
I totter towards the door, and it's not locked. Good. I have to find Peeta.  
It wasn't hard really, because I could hear him arguing with someone. Down a long hallway, pass a lobby, turn a corner, and peek through a slightly open door. There he was. He wasn't lying in bed like I was, but sitting up, with his legs hanging off the side. I can't see any injuries.  
He was arguing with Plutarch Heavansbee, and neither could see me.  
"No, I have to go, Plutarch! And even if I did, I wanted it to be real!" Yells Peeta.  
"But Peeta, we need you both for-" Plutarch seems frustrated. What does he need us for?  
"I can't stay with Katniss, Plutarch! Look! _Look_ what I _did_ to her!"  
"No, you can! You _can_ stay with her! We _need_ you to! The whole of _Panem_ needs you-"  
Peeta interrupts him again. "I have to leave, before she hears! _I can't fucking do this_!" At this, he breaks down and starts shaking. Unable to bear him in this kind of mental pain, I rush in, surprising both him and Plutarch. I grab both of Peeta's shoulders, and not caring if Plutarch was looking or not, I closed my eyes and kissed him, fiercer than I ever have before. Just when he starts to kiss back, I stop, and pull our embrace apart.  
I look at Plutarch, then Peeta.  
"What do you mean you're going? I won't let you go anywhere. Why are you in the hospital? I don't know what you're planning, but I demand to know!" I say.  
Plutarch starts off first. "Well, I was talking to the team back at the Capitol," _Whoever's left of it, I think_, "…and they had an idea. Well, it was mine, mostly, but you get the point. Anyway, we think that there should be some kind of Victory Tour, for the war, instead of the Games. To, you know, discourage all the people still on the "we rule all" side. Everyone would be coming, but you two would be the main feature. You getting me?" I don't like where this is going. It must show on my face because Plutarch hurries on, in that ridiculous accent. "And then, um, we thought we could end with your wedding in the Capitol."  
So this is where Peeta was coming from.  
"Plutarch, we aren't getting married in the _Capitol_, and we're _not_ going on a Victory Tour! One is definitely enough!"  
"Katniss, I know that the Games was a terrible experience for you, but Panem needs you BOTH to-"  
"OHMYGOD Plutarch, STOP SAYING THAT! It actually seems like it's just YOU who needs us. Not Panem! The "We rule all people" are getting smothered anyway! Believe it or not, but if I was a normal citizen of ANY district, I wouldn't want a "Victory Tour". Every single one of them has had people they knew and loved _DIE_! _Peeta's whole family is dead_! So is Prim! Because of that stupid war! I'm not doing it! And a wedding in the CAPITOL? What are you thinking, Plutarch? _NO WAY!_"  
And I storm out.  
It turns out that the hospital is a lot smaller than I thought, and soon enough I'm outside. It's night again; I must have been out for a while.  
I sigh.  
These nightshirts are cold.  
I sit there for at least an hour, thinking, before Peeta comes. Part of me almost doesn't want him here, but another knew I would've gone back inside to look for him soon anyway.  
"Katniss-" he starts, but I interrupt him.  
"What happened to get you in here?"  
"Oh. Twisted ankle, nothing bad. I was running to get help and fell." He lifted his foot and showed me his bandage.  
"What do you mean you have to go?" I whisper.  
He sighs, and puts his head in his hands.  
"Katniss, if I stay with you, then this," He waved his hand at us, "Will happen more often. What if-"  
"No. No what-ifs! We can deal with this..." I trail off into silence.  
We sit in silence for a while longer, and then Peeta goes back inside.  
Without saying anything.  
Not even bye.

Not even 'I'll see you later.'  
Not even 'Katniss, I love you."  
I lean back and look at the stars, thinking about Plutarch's plan. Mostly, the wedding idea.  
Are Peeta and I going to get married anyway? Yes, he proposed, and I supposedly "got pregnant", but that was all a lie for the cameras . . . wasn't it? We haven't even… you know… I vaguely remember Haymitch saying something about Peeta wanting 'it to be real,' and isn't that what I heard him say to Plutarch? But that was before all the mess of the Quarter Quell. Does he still love me like that? I see glimpses of it in him sometimes, but then it all falls apart, in a matter of seconds.  
I remember back to when he proposed to me, in that interview with Caesar Templesmith. It looked real, sure, and everyone in Panem would have believed it was. But not me, or Peeta.  
I wander back inside, not really caring where I end up, and find myself in a cafeteria of sorts.  
Ever since the uprising, everyone has had enough food; and in places like 11, 10 and 4, they get paid more than enough for harvesting it.  
I go up to the counter on the far wall and find myself a bowl of cereal. I quietly munch away until Haymitch walks in.  
Everyone seems to want to talk to me today. Or night. Whatever.  
"Yes?" I don't turn to look at him.  
"Ah . . . Sorry about what I said before. I was-"  
"Drunk." I cut him off.  
"Sort of. Still am, a bit." He says as he comes to sit next to me. "Huh, they found these tablets that sort of stop a hangover!"  
"You'll need a life supply," I mutter under my breath.  
"Peeta's really upset. He came to talk to me."  
"And?" I do not feel like putting up with anyone right now. Apart from maybe Peeta.  
"He sat there for a while and then said he thinks you're 'not like what everyone says you are'." He smirks. "Do you know what that means, sweetheart? I don't speak lovebird."  
I turn back to my cereal to find it's gone soft. Yuck. I stand up to stick it in a bin, and come back with an apple.  
I bite into it, and stare at the ground with my elbows resting on the table.  
So Peeta thinks I'M the one who's not who they're supposed to be? I sigh.  
"Hmph," mumbles Haymitch, and trudges back to wherever he came from.  
Sometimes I wonder if all that's happened since that reaping day for the 74th games was all a dream. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, go hunting with Gale, joke about that woman Effie Trinket, make cheese with Prim, feel sorry for the families of the Tributes. Maybe I never meet Peeta.  
Then who would I be now?  
Who would I be without Peeta?  
I sigh again and take another bite of the apple. I seem to be sighing a lot lately.  
I stand and chuck the core in a bin.  
What happens now?  
I begin to wander the place again. Sometimes I see staff in white coats, or even another sick looking patient with messy hair like mine. We smile absently, and pass each other by. I realize that there'll probably be lots of people in here from the war.  
I find myself back in my room. My bed wasn't made.

I woke up a while later, with people in white coats shoving bottles in my face and telling me I can go home.  
Home is we're the heart is.  
My heart got taken a long time ago.

**So… remember those prompts, right? :) thank you for reading so far. xoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

What Happens Now

Chapter 4

**Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews! I honestly though no one would read this… anyway, I'd love some prompts because I'm suffering from major writer's block and I have no idea what I should write next. I would like this to be quite a bit longer, because personally short fanfics annoy me, unless they're a one-shot of course… wow I'm babbling again. So, prompts! Pretty pretty pretty please! Oh, and I have exams in a week so I really shouldn't be on here… but here I am so whatever. And I'm sorry for the short chapter :/. xxx**

Back home, there's nothing to do. So many times I have got myself dressed nicely and put my hand on the door to go talk to Peeta - so many times I have chickened out.  
So a week after I get back, Greasy Sae unlocks the door to make breakfast.

Over the eggs, I ask her, "Where did Gale go?"

"District Two. Got some fancy job there. I see him now and again on the television," she says.

I dig around inside myself, trying to register anger, hatred, longing. Instead, I find only relief.

"I'm going hunting today,' I say.

"Well, I wouldn't mind some fresh game at that," she answers.

I finish breakfast and take the long route towards the meadow.  
Oh. They've replaced the fence. I probably should've seen that coming.  
Gone were the rusted chains, the holes, the links gone missing. Instead, the fence has been shortened (?) to about 7 foot, had similar chain replace the old, and now no holes I can sneak through.  
I walk closer, and listen closely for the telltale clicks... none. Does that mean its better quality electricity, or maybe... none?  
I pick up a nearby leaf, and throw it at the fence. It drifts slowly to the ground. I look around for something else like a stick. I throw one at it. It rattles the metal, but no burnt smell or sparks . . . Should I risk touching it? I consider for a moment... but what have I got left to lose?  
Reaching my hand out slowly, my hand touches the metal. No shock.  
Cool.  
I scaled the fence easily and run to grab my bow from the log. Just because the war's over doesn't mean going into the forest is "a good idea".  
The way through the forest is trickier than usual, the odd log or stone trip me up. Guess the days spent at home have caught up to me.  
I blunder on carelessly, and catch my shoes on a log. I fall, and my palms graze on the stones. Just a little sting, that's all.

I take down a few rabbits and a squirrel, but holding the carcasses in my hands, I look down on them and see them as people, for a brief moment. They would have had families, with still a life to live.

Disgusted with these thoughts, I stuff the animals in my (new) bag and walk back to the fence. I guess I'll just take them to the butcher… some people still like to buy what they're used to.

It's still early afternoon, and I have nothing better to do than sit on the sofa and watch the dust motes spin in thin shafts of golden light.

I wind up thinking about all the dead. I had a terrible nightmare the other night, where zim lying at the bottom of a deep grave, and every dead person I knew by name comes and throws a shovel full of ashes on me. It's quite a long dream, considering the list of people, and the deeper I'm buried, the harder it is to breathe. I try to call out, begging them to stop, but the ashes fills my mouth and nose and I can't make any sound.

It wasn't a nice dream, to say the least.

I get back, and Greasy Sae isn't at home so I leave the bag on the bench in the kitchen, and go to sit in the lounge again.

I don't find happiness anymore. Peeta definitely isn't going to come around anymore. I have nothing and no one left to live for.

There's no obstacle to taking my life. But I seem to be waiting for something.

**So I hoped you liked it, and sorry AGAIN for the short chapter. Remember prompts please? And review! :) xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am _such a bad person_. I'm awful. Horrible. _Naaaasty_. I'm so, _dreadfully_, _awfully_, _terribly_ sorry for how long this has taken me to update. I had a massive writing block, my hunger games feels went awol and then there was the real life stuff, like homework, studying for another lot of exams and bus rides that last so much longer than they should. Again, I apologize, and I hope you'll forgive me…?**

**Disclaimer: woops lol I forgot about these. No, I don't own THG otherwise Finnick wouldn't have died and Rue would be Katniss's bridesmaid at Peeniss's wedding.**

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Nothing happens. Life is dreary and I keep asking myself why. Why? Meaningless questions circle round my head and their buzzing was growing tiresome.

I sigh and continue folding the clothes. Greasy Sae hasn't been feeling well, and she hasn't been coming around, so I've had to clean up after myself.

I make a cup of tea and sit down in front of the window, warming my hands.

People were still cleaning up. I honestly can't believe that they are still pulling out bodies pieces from the wreckage. District 12 is a lot bigger than I really thought.

Once I finish my tea, I mill around the house for a while.

And then I get an idea.

Maybe, if it hurts to help, helping is good? Everyone always says face your fears. Not my deepest, darkest ones, obviously, just those ones that _can_ be faced, without killing me. Like giving a hand to the Post-War Efforts.

Heading upstairs to grab my coat and some shoes, I consider where I should start. There are so many jobs out there, that I can see, but only a few I can manage. I have weakened a fair amount, I know that. Now all I have to do is find something I can do.

I lift my coat out of the closet, and wipe off some dust.

"Missed you," I whisper.

I slip on my boots and jog downstairs. Open the door. Walk down the street. Look around. Spy a man who looks like he's directing some builders fixing a house.

"Excuse me-"

"Well, look who it is, men! Katniss Everdeen!" He shouts, his face turning a little red from what looked like excitement. At my name, all six people working on the house turned and starting cheering.

"Kennald Westwood, at your service," Says the man, offering his hand as the others continued clapping.

I shake his hand. "Please guys, don't. I'm not here for applause." I say, a little bashfully. "I… I was wondering of any jobs you know, that doesn't really involve anything gruesome, that I can take part in?"

"Hmm…" Says Kennald. "You could help with Hospital patients? Maybe? That could be stressful for you a little, I guess. You could help with the food for the volunteers…" He numbered off a couple more options, but the food stuck in my head. Maybe… only maybe… it could be worth a try.

I smile lightly and thank them for helping me get back on my feet. They give me another round of applause and I bow, then wave and walk towards the centre of town.

The renovations are actually quite astounding. It shows I've been hidden away for a while, the things I've missed, and the looks I keep getting from people. It's like they expect me to stand up and take charge again. I don't think I'm quite there yet.

The food court is held in the Justice Building, and I honestly don't want to back in there, it's a pretty terrible place. But if this is the only way I can become braver again, and maybe, _maybe _ever have a chance to be with Peeta again, I'm going to have to at least try.

I walk in, and am immediately enveloped in the smell of something roasting. I sniff again, and could it be? It smells exactly like the lamb and plum stew I had in the capitol. I can't believe it. I also can't contain my sudden hunger, so I quickly find my way through deserted entry halls to the kitchen; and what a large kitchen it is too. People gather and spread like ants in a nest; all with a busy job and plenty on their agenda. The low, comfortable humming of people getting along reverbrates throughout the room. But nobody turns; there's enough of a crowd as there is. I'm not needed.

With a last glance around the kitchen, I turn and quietly make to walk out, until I hear something clatter to the floor and footsteps run after me.

"Katniss?" Peeta turns the corner, floured apron swinging. "Why are you here?"

"I, uh, wanted to help out... I've been sitting doing nothing for weeks, so..."

"So you decided to come _here_?" He carried on, wiping his hands on his apron. He looked almost suspicious; it's not as though I had followed him on purpose... okay, so _maybe_ I _thought_ he could have been here... No, who am I kidding. I knew.

I look down at my feet, for a loss words. But of course, Peeta never has a loss of words.

"Well, you're here anyway, and we were looking for another set of hands." I smile at this. At least he's making the effort. He gestures for me to follow him back into the kitchen.

Trailing behind Peeta, I realize how he takes control of the kitchen. I've seen him take power like this before... I shake my head to clear the memories.

"Anybody know some..." He pauses, "...easier jobs? Katniss wanted to lend a hand." A couple of women make their way over to us, and chatter a couple of things to Peeta, who nods and chatters back. Really, I don't have a clue what's going on until I get handed an onion and a knife.

A few minutes later, tears are in my eyes and I'm half laughing-half crying, earning a couple of worried looks that I brush off.

"Uh, Katniss? Are you okay?" Peeta wonders over, and smiling. he seems so _at ease_ here. I smile back, and wipe my eyes

"Oh, I'm fine. Onions." I gesture to the pile of chopped vegetables. He nods, but then gently takes the knife from my hands and pulls me out of the kitchen once more.

"You knew I would be here, didn't you?" Said Peeta. Is he trying to tell me off or something?

I better not lie. "Okay. I did. But... I miss you, Peeta."

* * *

**A/N: So I dearly hope you'll forgive me for basically ditching this fic, I'm going to try much harder to write more, and I think I know where this is going now! Anyway thank you for reading, I love you all and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour. :) xxx**


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